The Emperor's Pavilion: A Jiangnan Dream

"Snow falls over the southern sky, the moon shines on the river; the wind dances through long silk, and February flowers bloom. I pour two or three cups of wine in the small pavilion, leaning against the tower, worn with longing. Who am I waiting for?" In a calm, unhurried voice, a faint thread of thought lingered. Who was leaning beside the small pavilion in the night, reciting poetry?

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